Unfortunately, this is one time machine in musical form I do not want to step inside. The dapper young gentlemen from Yellow Stripe Nine (now abbreviated to YSN, folks - bewilderment! Confusion!) offer us forth upon their silver platter something that conjures up far too many nightmares involving being stalked down shadowy stately-home corridors by butlers with handlebar moustaches. A game of Cluedo in which death is by synth in the room dedicated to the worst possible musical blunders of the 1980s, quite possibly.

'Trouble With Girls' has a slimy bassline, a leering, sneering, smarmy voice dribbling all over it like an toothless, over-sexed python and a rhythm part dragged up from the dredges of the very deepest and darkest vaults of that which we call the somewhat disagreeable history of the drum machine. T'song improves slightly at one point when a number of people chant 'Sell, sell, sell', although you get the feeling that that is something that this CD, albeit in possession of a lovely lordly inlay, won't do.

A marginal improvement follows, courtesy of 'Cristal'. Equally grimy and nauseating, it does, however, have a redeeming chorus which you would attempt to sing along to if it were possible to hear a single word. Apart from the very last one, that is, which doesn't count anyway as the indulgent, voyeuristic, repulsively lusty intakes of breath before every articulation of the name 'Cristal' will make you congeal inside and lock up your daughters. Quite scary stuff, this - don't touch these smooth chancers with a barge-pole.